The Beast


I’m gonna hunt me down a mammoth

into a pit of ice, and let it rest there

so I never have to go hunting again.

 

And with my spare time, I’ll invent the wheel and will finally enter into so called civilisation. It’s the only way, for I’ve hated the hunt from the first day. We are the dollars and cents, and I loathe to wear the face of another.


4 Responses to “The Beast”

  1. larissa Says:

    ‘The beast,’ or the beast within?

  2. Arthur Brash Says:

    Um, well the mammoth was in this case the beast… Of course, this is all metaphorical. In reality, I’d be the pebble at the bottom of its furry “paw” before I could utter a war cry. And for all I know, that’s how it’ll go down in my less metaphorical reality, but better to get taken out on the way to a goal than a meteor while strolling in confusion. :)

    Note to self: Avoid comments longer than the initial entry.
    Roger and out.

  3. larissa Says:

    Ah yes, the old ‘going out in a blaze of glory’ thing… :)

    “…Out and Roger!”

  4. Arthur Brash Says:

    Hahaha… not what I meant, but it seems that these days I do a lot of saying that ends up meaning something else than I mean.

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